


a beast in repose

by gravitational



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-22 15:27:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22284967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravitational/pseuds/gravitational
Summary: Geralt is a predatory thing.The imposing silhouette he casts against the light, the lines of muscle so clearly visible even through tunic and plate, the wolf-gold or abyssal dark of his eyes, the cut of his teeth that’s just this side of too sharp and inhuman…
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 39
Kudos: 866





	a beast in repose

**Author's Note:**

> So... yeah, I'm in love with these two. Expect an awful lot of them for a while.
> 
> "The Sharpest Lives" - My Chemical Romance

Geralt is a predatory thing.

The imposing silhouette he casts against the light, the lines of muscle so clearly visible even through tunic and plate, the wolf-gold or abyssal dark of his eyes, the cut of his teeth that’s just this side of too sharp and inhuman…

The raw and husky growl of his voice, all the more unnerving when raised.

He’s terrifying when in motion, all looming stances and powerful strides, and when he swings a sword, he makes it seem like nothing to rend bone and flesh apart. the spray of blood across his skin never seems to bother him; it’s almost as if he’s more comfortable in his own body if it’s painted with a snuffed-out life.

Geralt is a predator, and yet, for all that he can tear a foe to pieces, Jaskier is certain that he is never more of a wolf than when Geralt comes for him.

Geralt has bedded him more times than either of them can count, and Jaskier has never made it to dawn unscathed, not even once. The witcher’s teeth are sharp and his hands are strong, and his own skin pale and soft and nigh untouched.

The White Wolf loves to bite - to sink his teeth into Jaskier’s flesh, deep into the crook of his shoulder or the hollow of his throat, biting and biting and _biting_ until Jaskier is bleeding, twisting, gasping under the pain, his hands fisted tight in icy pale locks to keep his witcher close.

Geralt keeps him pinned as he works his bard to ecstasy, his hands firm and bruising on Jaskier’s hips and thighs. It's so easy, so effortless, for him to lift Jaskier to the wall, to press his thighs apart and _dig in,_ to leave his fingerprints on Jaskier’s ghostly skin. Jaskier can only buck and writhe, straining against a hold he knows damn well he can’t break - doesn’t want to break, not when Geralt is growling just so against his ear -

and fuck, his _voice,_ that low and horrific and maddening snarl, the one that makes heat curl low in Jaskier’s gut even when they’re miles from a proper bed. Geralt is quiet at all times except now, quiet until he’s coaxing Jaskier to sing for him, until he’s burying three fingers deep into his aching heat and drawing wretched cries from the throat of his bard -

his fingers. His hands. Christ, they wreck Jaskier without Geralt even trying, long enough that they can reach deeper than Jaskier’s own, thick enough that it’s fucking nothing for him to have Jaskier sobbing his name.

“My little lark,” Geralt will croon, deep and rough and raw, lips against his ear and fingers crooked to stroke over the nerves inside him, and Jaskier will moan for him, high and broken and absolutely ruined, and Jaskier will beg -

and finally, _finally,_ Geralt will take his hand away, and Jaskier will whine, but Geralt is quick to soothe him, lips firm and insistent and tongue coaxing Jaskier’s apart… and Geralt will hold his legs apart and he will push in, and Jaskier will _keen…_

and Geralt will hold him close, will pin him to the sheets with his own weight, will croon into his ear until Jaskier is shaking with the weight of his cock deep inside, thick and hot and so fucking perfect, and it feels as though Jaskier can taste it in his _throat -_

and only when his bard is trembling and gasping and completely gone will Geralt reach between them for his cock, will wrap a hand around him and swipe his thumb across the head, and then, only then, Jaskier will break.

He’ll come with a stifled cry, Geralt’s name a curse and a prayer all at once, muffled into his shoulder, and Geralt will _growl,_ deep and wrecked, and he’ll help him ride it out, the scent of his bard’s seed hot and bitter and fucking heavenly in his head, and that - that’s enough to break him.

Geralt will thrust in deep and bite down hard, hard, _hard_ as he spills inside his lark, and Jaskier will jerk and sob and beg, and Geralt will only purr, soothing him with his voice, his lips, his tongue, his touch… coaxing Jaskier back to reality as he pulls out, lets his seed drip back out and onto the sheets.

Jaskier will drift off in his witcher’s arms, skin raw and bruised and broken, his hips split in half and so gloriously sore… his witcher’s heartbeat slow and calming against his ear.

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on Tumblr  
> (user gravitational813)
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed!
> 
> <3


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